


Finding Home, Building Home

by coinin



Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cats, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Furniture, Hanzo Shimada: Cat Acquisition Expert, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 13:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15607074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coinin/pseuds/coinin
Summary: It's taken a while, helped along by teammates, arguments about furniture, and quite a bit of cat hair, but Jesse's finally made a home.





	Finding Home, Building Home

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting some Tumblr kiss prompt fills.
> 
> [YourAverageJoke](http://youraveragejoke.tumblr.com/) and [robo-cryptid](https://robo-cryptid.tumblr.com/) asked for "Routine Kisses Where The Other Person Presents Their Cheek/Forehead For The Hello/Goodbye Kiss Without Even Looking Up From What They’re Doing" and "Being Unable To Open Their Eyes For A Few Moments Afterward"

When McCree answered the Recall, it was just Winston and Lena and himself and a few others, and with the exception of Winston in his lab, they’d all been happy enough to bunk down in the single rooms that used to be reserved for the scientists who staffed Watchpoint Gibraltar. A single was a world above the kind of quarters McCree had been used to, and it sure beat the old Blackwatch dorms. Then Genji had shown up with his monk in tow, and some more after that, and right about when Ana showed up with the so-called Soldier 76 they had run out of rooms and had to open up the old officer’s quarters. 

Now, Jesse was perfectly happy with his room, but all it took was Soldier 76 acting like he was owed the base commander’s suite for every contrary bone in Jesse’s body to wake up at once. When Jesse reminded him that as Chief Warrant Officer, Jesse is the second highest ranking member of Overwatch left (Ana’s still got Jesse beat, but she’d only snorted indelicately and muttered something about dick waving, so Jesse’s pretty sure she’s as sick of Morrison’s new deal as Jesse is) so unless you have something to tell us, _Soldier_ , then Jesse would take that room - well, the veins had stood out on his neck and it looked like the old Soldier was was about fit to crack his own teeth in half with how hard he was clenching his jaw. Jesse figured it must’ve stung something fierce having ranked pulled on him, and by a non commissioned officer at that. Served him right, though, for this goddamn mysterious vigilante charade.

The problem was, Jesse found himself rattling around the suite like a pea in a pod - what use one man could have for a bedroom, a bathroom, an eat-in kitchen and a living room was beyond Jesse, who had spent most of his adult life with not much more space to his name than a bunk and a foot locker, if he was lucky. It was a good thing the rooms were pre-furnished with the furniture standard to every Overwatch base - all in shades of institutional beige - or he would’ve spent the next year living out of a duffle and sleeping on a mattress on the floor. 

Ana gets him some carpets, real nice hand-tied wool ones, because she says all the beige gives her a headache. Jesse puts the red carpet with the gold floral pattern in the bedroom, and the blue and silver geometric patterned one in the living room, hangs up a couple old movie posters, and calls it good. A few months after that, Genji goes to Japan and returns with a cautiously hopeful spring in his step and a bunch of truly terrible wall scrolls for Jesse: big titty anime girls and a couple of bara guys with their dicks out. After Genji finishes laughing at Jesse’s reaction, he brings out his real gift of two gorgeous woodcut prints: one an early 20th century print by an American woman artist, and another one by Hiroshige, both originals and both “liberated” from Shimada castle. 

Fareeha is just as bad as Jesse at interior decorating, but she buys him a series of cozy throw blankets, each brighter than the last. It’s round about the time Fareeha shoves the second blanket at him and sits him down for another round of their favorite game - getting drunk while making fun of the inaccuracies in classic spy movies - that the place starts to feel like more than a fancy storage space for all his gear. 

Doesn’t start feeling like home until Hanzo starts leaving his stuff around, though. 

Hanzo shows up a couple months after Genji’s recruiting trip, looking like a man who’s not exactly sure of his welcome but doing a good job of hiding it. Jesse hadn’t expected to like Hanzo, much less fall in love with him, life sure was full of surprises. Jesse always was weak for the ones who looked like they could break him in half if they wanted, and Hanzo has a sneaky, dry sense of humor to boot, but the real killer is the day Hanzo quotes Tombstone right back at him.

The only problem with letting Hanzo into his space is that Hanzo has wildly different ideas about what sort of furniture is acceptable: Hanzo's a fan of the sort of minimalist Scandinavian design that's all stainless steel and glass and makes Jesse feel like he's living in a refrigerator, not a house, and Jesse's fondness for kitschy knick-knacks makes Hanzo's eye twitch. They have a few spirited debates that end in impromptu sex on the kitchen table (it breaks,) the couch (Hanzo says it's too short, and while McCree privately agrees, he'll be damned if he ends up with some chrome and white leather contraption that looks like it was made for omnics, not humans,) and the bedroom floor (not related to any specific piece of furniture, but the argument got passionate and they got impatient and never quite made it as far as the bed,) and things might have stayed that way - stuck in a state of occasional bickering - if not for a mission in Japan that had ended in Kyoto. 

They're walking down a street - barely more than an alleyway, by Jesse's standards - in the oldest part of the city when Hanzo stops so suddenly Jesse runs into him. There's nothing hostile in sight, and anyway Hanzo isn't looking at the street: he's staring at the window of what appears to be a tiny antique shop, barely bigger than Jesse's closet, and Hanzo appears entranced by a - Jesse isn't quite sure what to call it, but it looks like the lovechild of a chest of drawers and a stack of boxes, only made of dark wood with black iron hardware.

Which is how Jesse finds out that for all Hanzo talks a good game about _clean lines_ and shit, what really gets him going is furniture that’s old enough that it costs twice as much as the same thing new. Jesse doesn’t mind a bit: the old stuff has character, makes a place look lived in. It’s a bitch and a half to get the chest - a tansu, as Jesse finds out - shipped back to Gibraltar, but it’s all worth it for the look on Hanzo’s face, and for the way he immediately stops trying to turn their rooms into something out of a Scandinavian design magazine. 

Now they have a platform bed frame, custom made out Japanese red oak and big enough for both of them to lie sideways, if they wanted to, with sturdy hardware bolted discretely out of sight for when they’re feeling adventurous. Ana’s rug still has pride of place in the center of the bedroom floor, and maybe Jesse is feeling maudlin - it has been known to happen, especially on nights like tonight when he has plans with Fareeha and Genji that involve going out, getting drunk, and remembering the old days - but it feels awfully nice seeing Navajo weavings sharing wall space with antique kimono; the intertwining of Hanzo and Jesse’s lives laid plain for all to see. 

Hanzo is in the living room, curled up on the mid century modern couch that Jesse still thinks looks a little weird, but it’s a good eight feet long and sturdy enough for the both of them, so it stays. The couch needs at least half dozen throw pillows to be comfortable, but their friends have them covered in that area: they’ve got a giant plush Pachimari pillow, several plush dragons, and an assortment of pillows embroidered with floral Swedish folk art motifs and swear words in fancy script, from Torbjorn’s wife. 

The tansu still has pride of place in the living room, with the Maria Martinez black ceramic bowl that Hanzo gave him for their anniversary enshrined in a discreet hardlight enclosure on the top step of the tansu. Hanzo has refreshed the flowers in it - the new arrangement mostly sparse greenery with a spray of something yellow - and Jesse shakes his head, amused all over again because if someone had told him at seventeen that he would end up dating a man who arranged flowers for fun, he’d have laughed himself sick and then punched the messenger. But Hanzo says ikebana relaxes him, and it sure does have a way of livening up the space. 

Maru is sprawled out asleep on the second highest step of the tansu, his bob tailed butt nearly hanging off the edge - and that’s another thing Jesse never expected about Hanzo: that’s the way the man collects cats. They have three, and Hanzo had only stopped there because Jesse put his foot down. Maru has been the first; picked up as a stray in Osaka and carried home in Hanzo’s jacket. He’s a big, ornery bastard with a torn ear who only loves Hanzo. Him and Jesse get along just fine by ignoring each other as much as possible.

The sliding door to the middle compartment of the tansu is cracked open, a striped tail dangling out of the crack. Hanzo claims he doesn’t leave the door open on purpose, but Jesse doesn’t believe him. His serapes are folded away in that compartment, and sure enough when he opens the door the rest of the way, sweet little Tora looks up at him from where she’s curled up on Jesse’s favorite red serape. She chirps sleepily and stretches out, making starfish paws at him, and Jesse doesn’t have the heart to move her. She wouldn’t care, just cuddle up to him and demand love, but somehow that makes the thought of kicking her out of her hiding place worse. He never has this problem with Maru, just turfs the fat bastard out from wherever he isn’t supposed to be without a second thought.

“Goddamn cat,” Jesse mutters fondly, as he very gently scratches Tora in her favorite spot under her chin. Guess he’s wearing his shearling jacket instead. 

His jacket is hanging on the settle by the door - an American frontier piece Jesse had picked up because it reminded him of his dim memories of his grandparents’ house - but he makes a detour to say goodbye to his darling before putting on his boots. 

Hanzo is reading an honest to goodness paper book with Cloud - sweet, stupid Cloud, all fluff and not even the common sense the good Lord gave a fly - sprawled out on his back in Hanzo’s lap, receiving absent-minded belly rubs. Hanzo tilts his head for a kiss without looking up from his book, and Jesse obliges, pressing a dry kiss to Hanzo’s temple. 

“I’m headin’ out,” Jesse says. 

“Enjoy yourself,” Hanzo replies absently. “Don’t get kicked out of too many bars.”

“We’ll keep it to three, max,” Jesse says, looking down at Hanzo. Hanzo’s wearing his reading glasses, the gold-rimmed ones that always make Jesse’s heart go pitter-pat, and Jesse’s overcome with a sudden overwhelming wave of fondness for this man he’s somehow made a life with. 

“Hey,” he says softly, and when Hanzo looks up, Jesse leans over and kisses him properly, sweet and lingering. 

Jesse rests his forehead against Hanzo’s when they part, cradled Hanzo’s face in his hands, on the edge of shaking with the intensity of the feeling wrapped around his heart, unwilling - or unable - to open his eyes. 

“Jesse, is something the matter?” Hanzo asks, and that shakes Jesse out of it. He opens his eyes, and there’s Hanzo right in front of him, looking concerned. 

“Nah, I’m alright,” Jesse replies. “Just remembered how much I love you, darlin’. Made me weak at the knees. 

Hanzo smiles at him, warm and private and bright as the rising sun. 

“I love you too, Jesse.”


End file.
